


A Neville in Shining Armour

by Bickymonster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drunk Harry, Fluff and Humor, Leaky Cauldron, M/M, Oblivious Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 17:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17812118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bickymonster/pseuds/Bickymonster
Summary: A few years after the end of the war, Harry is struggling. Thankfully Neville is there to help.





	A Neville in Shining Armour

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a few days late, but here is my addition to our Unexpected Love Valentine's Day 2019 Challenge. I have wanted to write a Neville/Harry story for a while but never really found the story that was right for the pairing. The challenge, however, created this 'little' plot bunny which grew hugely and became this 10k word fic before you. I hope you all enjoy.

  
Harry had always thought that, if he survived, his life would become considerably easier in the wake of Voldemort’s defeat. To be fair, he supposed he hadn’t sleep in a forest or battled any dragons in a good many years now. But somehow he felt as though he’d never quite got the hang of this ‘living’ thing.  
  
He sipped absent-mindedly at his beer as he watching yet another group get up and leave the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
It was getting late and he knew he should probably go home. Hermione and Ron had left together nearly fifty minutes ago and it had been twenty minutes since Seamus and Dean had left him there alone. Harry had offered to buy the pair another round, but Seamus had not so subtly hinted to Dean of ‘better things’ for them to be doing. Harry had been unsurprised by their swift departure after that.  
  
Sometimes being the single guy of the group sucked.  
  
Draining the last dregs from his glass, Harry stood. He grasped at the edge of the table when the room swayed around him, stumbling a half-pace back into his own chair. Apparently, he had drunk more than he had intended to… again.  
  
“Can I call someone for you, Mr Potter?”  
  
Harry blinked blearily over at Tom. The elderly owner was stood behind the bar, rag in hand and a concerned frown on his face, which was just a little too reminiscent of how Hermione tended to glance at him lately.    
  
“No, I’ll be alright,” he assured him, as he manoeuvred himself out from behind the table.  
  
He was feeling light-headed and a bit woozy, and so took a moment to ensure he was steady on his feet, pausing there as he lingered on the haunting thought that he didn’t know who he could have had Tom call, even if he had wanted help.  
  
“Maybe a room for the night then,” Tom offered, gesturing to the ceiling above them. “On the house.”  
  
Harry seriously considered the generous offer for a moment but he didn’t want to be that person, so drunk in the tavern he couldn’t even get home. Instead, he braved taking a first few steps, relieved to find himself relatively steady on his feet and his stomach staying put.  
  
“I really don’t think you should be floo-ing or apparating…” Tom warned cautiously.  
  
“The walk home would probably do me good,” Harry insisted with a vague smile and a wave, as he headed toward the door out into muggle London.  
  
Before Harry could reach the door, however, it swung inward and a dark-haired young man stepped through.  
  
“Harry?”  
  
“Neville! What are you doing here?”  
  
“Are you drunk?” Neville asked with a small chuckle and a crooked smile.  
  
“Um… Yeah, I think so, I might be,” Harry rambled, laughing as Neville took several steps closer to him. “I had quite a few,” he admitted.  
  
“I can tell.”  
  
“I was just heading home though,” Harry informed him, gesturing past Neville to the door.  
  
“By yourself?” Neville questioned, his brow furrowing. “Please tell me you weren’t going to apparate.”  
  
Harry pouted. “I wasn’t.”  
  
“Good. You’re bad enough at that when you’re sober,” Neville teased, before offering Harry his arm. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”  
  
“You mean my home or yours?” Harry asked as he linked his arm with Neville’s.  
  
His friend let out a surprised laugh and Harry blushed deeply as he realised how that sounded.  
  
“That’s… not what I meant.”  
  
Neville shook his head in amusement, chuckling as the two of them headed back out the door he’d walked in through only moments earlier, out of the pub and into Muggle London.  
  
“I was suggesting yours but you know you’re always welcome at mine. I do brew a mean coffee and you do look like you could use it,” Neville said, taking a long moment to look Harry over from head-to-toe.  
  
Harry was fairly sure he looked like shit. He felt like it. Now that they were outside in the cold night air, he was feeling every drop of the seven… no, wait, eight beers he’d drunk that evening. And he was currently standing close enough to Neville to very much regret not taking the time to shower and change clothes between work and meeting up with everyone at the Leaky.  
  
He tugged a hand through his hair, already knowing it did its styling no favours.  
  
Neville, however, was just smiling at him fondly.  
  
“Let’s get you home,” he said, leaning in close, tightening his hold around Harry’s waist, and waiting just long enough for Harry not to be surprised when they disapparated a few seconds later.  
  
-#-  
  
Harry groaned in protest as he woke up, rolling over in his bed, burying his face into his pillow and tugging the covers up over his head to hide from the daylight streaming into his bedroom. Tiredly, he poked out a hand, blindly searching for his wand.  
  
It took several long moments but his fingers eventually wrapped around the familiar wood, shaking it free from the sheets.  
  
“Velum cludo,” he mumbled, the spell barely audible through his pillow as he jabbed his wand in the direction of the window and he sighed in relief as the curtains jerked closed and the room darkened.  
  
Only then did he dare to venture out from under the covers.  
  
Rolling over once more, he flumped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His head was pounding and he had no desire to move.  
  
“You can’t go to work looking like that,” the mirror commented unhelpfully from across the room.  
  
“I’m going to get changed,” Harry told it without moving.  
  
“Not if you want to be on time,” the clock on the bedside table chimed in far too perkily. “Five minutes to nine,” it added when he turned to read it.  
  
“Shit!” he exclaimed, all but jumping out of out of bed. “Fuck…” he groaned in pain, grabbing his head as he did so.  
  
He really hadn’t meant to oversleep. He had intended to set an alarm when he got home. Not that he had much of a memory of getting home. But he really didn’t have time to be thinking about that as he focused on attempting a freshening charm on the cleanest of his Auror robes.  
  
By the time he finally dropped himself into the chair at his desk, he was only just over five minutes late. He didn’t think he or his robes smelt too bad, he’d managed to find some gum to chew on to hide the worst of his morning breath and his shoes were now on the right feet. He’d even managed some clean underwear.  
  
“You look exhausted, Harry. Did you sleep at all?”  
  
Lifting his chin from his hand, Harry slowly turned to blink up at Neville in confusion. Neville was watching him with a curious smile that he couldn’t quite read and he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.  
  
“Not much,” Harry admitted, resting his head in his hands once more and gesturing to the chair across from him.  
  
“Good job I brought you this then,” Neville said, placing the large coffee in his hand down in front of Harry as he took the offered seat.  
  
“You… brought me coffee?”  
  
“Thought you might need it.” Neville shrugged. “Was pretty late when I dropped you off at your house and you were nowhere close to sober. I offered to make you some coffee last night but…”  
  
“Yeah… no… I remember,” Harry assured him.  
  
He did. Vaguely.  
  
He knew Neville had apparated him to just outside his front door, offered to help make coffee, and even to see him up to bed. Harry, however, had promised he was fine, thanked him for his help and told him he had it from there.  
  
Yeah, he’d had it alright. He’d had another two beers and chased them both with a shot firewhisky.  
  
Excellent life choices, Harry, he thought derisively as he sipped the drink Neville had gifted him, regretting not letting his friend just take care of him the evening before.  
  
He sighed with contentment at the first taste. It was still the perfect temperature, obviously kept under an excellent warming charm. It was rich in flavour and had lots of added milk and sugar, just how he liked it, even if he didn’t often admit that around other Aurors. They all seemed to drink it strong and black, how real coffee should be drunk, he’d been told.  
  
“Thank you,” he said earnestly.  
  
“Any time,” Neville assured him. “I considered bringing you breakfast, but I figured you'd have eaten already.”  
  
Harry shrugged, sipping again at the warm drink now clutched between his hands.  
  
“Don't usually bother with breakfast anyway.”  
  
Neville stared at him with wide, shocked eyes, as though the very idea of skipping breakfast was totally alien to him.  
  
“It's the most important meal of the day,” he stated with utmost seriousness. “Gran always said so.”  
  
“Right…”  
  
“Stay here, I'll see what I can find you,” Neville said eagerly, all but jumping to his feet.  
  
“Neville, I'm fine, really. I don't need anything,” Harry tried to protest but Neville was already hurrying off, halfway across the Auror's office in search of something for him to eat.  
  
“I'll be right back,” Neville called back to him, dodging Ron coming the other way.  
  
Harry forced a smile and nodded in thanks before waving vaguely at his best friend. As Neville disappeared from sight he resting his head back on his desk once more.  
  
“Where's he off to in such a hurry?” Ron asked as he reached him, taking Neville's vacated seat.  
  
“He's trying to find me some breakfast,” Harry commented without lifting his head. He knew Neville meant well but he was too tired and pained to want to consider food of any kind.  
  
“Why?” Ron questioned, obviously totally bemused as he leaned forward and stole a swig of Harry's coffee. He hummed in approval. “You don't do breakfast.”  
  
“Feel free to explain that to Neville,” Harry said, sitting up once more with great effort and batting his friend away from his drink.  
  
“You look like shit,” Ron informed him helpfully.  
  
Harry glared at him balefully, shuffling a stack of papers in front of himself in a pretence of starting some work.  
  
“Was a late night,” Harry stated dismissively before opening the first file, sipping at his coffee once more, keeping it possessively close now.  
  
“Not that late.” Ron frowned. “How many more rounds did you guys get?”  
  
Harry sighed tiredly. “Enough to hurt this morning,” he told him vaguely.  
  
Ron snorted. “The advantage of having someone to drag you home early, I guess. We should find you someone.”  
  
“Yeah, I'll get right on that,” Harry assured him sarcastically. He couldn't help but think it might be nice, though he wasn't sure it was in the cards for him. Him and girls… it just didn't seem to work as anything more than friends.  
  
“Weasley! That’s not your desk!”  
  
“Shit, I'll catch you later,” Ron said quickly. At their boss’ shout he'd jumped up, and patting Harry on the shoulder, he rushed off to his own desk, leaving Harry to attempt to focus on his own work.  
  
-#-  
  
It was about twenty minutes later that Neville came wandering back into the department.  
  
He had a smile on his face, a covered dish in hand, and didn’t seem at all as though he had just missed the first half an hour of work. He was greeted warmly by more than one of their colleagues on his way across the department.  
  
That was the thing about Neville, people just seemed to trust him. People assumed he was where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to be doing. Harry supposed it might just be because he usually was. But nobody ever seemed question Neville and it gave him this untouchable quality. If it had been anyone else it might have been infuriating.  
  
Neville, however, was very hard to dislike.  
  
“It isn’t much,” Neville told him, as he placed the covered dish he’d been carrying onto Harry’s desk,  “but at least you can eat something.”  
  
“Thanks, Neville.”  
  
“Anytime,” he said, as he pulled cutlery from the inside of his robes.  
  
Harry chuckled in amusement as he was handed a knife and fork. It seemed that Neville was determined to see him fed. Neville flashed him a smile in return and rested a firm, comforting hand on his shoulder as he passed, heading finally for his own desk.  
  
Still not sure he actually wanted to eat but feeling it would be rude to turn down the food Neville had gone to such lengths to fetch, Harry lifted the cover.  
  
“Isn’t... much...?” Harry muttered to himself in disbelief as he stared at the plate in front of him.  
   
Neville had brought him what looked to be most of a fry up, freshly cooked from the smell of it. Two fried eggs, toast, a couple of sausages, a grilled tomato, several rashers of bacon, even a portion of beans. And despite every ounce of his resistance, his mouth watered.  
  
Harry glanced over his shoulder, to where Neville was now getting himself set up for the day.  
  
Neville, who had been digging through his desk drawer, must have felt eyes on him because he looked up. Harry smiled gratefully as their eyes met. Neville simply smiled in return, bowing his head in acknowledgement.  
  
Deciding to give this breakfast thing a chance, Harry tucked in.  
  
He actually moaned at the first bite, earning a weird look of disapproval from Morton at the next desk.  
  
“‘s ‘e’ry good,” Harry explained around his mouthful, gesturing to the plate with the fork.  
  
It really was. He was half convinced Neville had floo-ed to Hogwarts and had the house elves make this for him personally because the meal was doing something magical to his formally churning stomach.  
  
This had been exactly what he needed.  
  
-#-  
  
Surprisingly, or perhaps not so much given how much better he felt after eating, the rest of Harry’s day went rather smoothly. He completed the stack of reports on his desk, joined Ron and Hermione for lunch in the Ministry cafeteria and then had spent the afternoon trawling through what felt like endlessly dull research on the legalities of bowtruckle breeding.  
  
He even left the office on time, feeling rather accomplished, given how his day had started.  
  
“Thanks again for breakfast. And the coffee,” he said as he stopped off at his friend’s desk on his way out.  
  
Neville’s head came up from the report he was finishing to flash him a smile. “You’re welcome.”  
  
“And for... you know, last night,” Harry added with a slightly nervous chuckle, realising again how much Neville had done for him in the last twenty-four hours.  
  
“It’s really no problem,” Neville told him earnestly. “I’ll see you Monday?”  
  
“Yep, see you then, Neville. Night.”  
  
“Night, Harry.”  
  
As he arrived home and unlocked his front door, however, stepping into the dark, silent hallway of Grimmauld Place, his mood soured.  
  
The house had been completely redone in bright and fresh colours, with little evidence of its former state. It was beautiful, grand, homely even to all appearances, and yet, something oppressive remained. He felt he understood Sirius’ loathing of the place better than ever, now he lived there alone.  
  
He managed to cobble together some semblance of dinner from the contents on his kitchen cupboards and forced himself to eat half of it, despite his appetite having vanished. He spent all of fifteen minutes trying to read before heading up to bed, mostly out of sheer boredom.  
  
At least the early night would do him some good. He’d had anywhere near enough sleep the night before and he had a busy weekend ahead, he reminded himself, as he tugged on his pyjamas, his eyes already drifting shut as he crawled under the covers.  
  
-#-  
  
 _“_ Harry?!”  
  
Ginny’s voice rang out somewhere in his house, pulling him reluctantly back to consciousness.  
  
“You’re not still sleeping are you?” she called up to him as she made her way up the stairs.  
  
He wasn’t, not anymore, but he very much wanted to be. Not for the first time, he found himself questioning why he had allowed her floo-access to his home. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, burrowing deeper into the bed in a futile hope that he might be able to steal just a little more rest.    
  
Knuckles rapped against his bedroom door, and without waiting for a response, Ginny pushed it open a crack and sticking her head into the room.  
  
“It’s nearly nine-thirty,” she informed him.  
  
“You’re a terrible human being,” Harry grumbled into his pillow.  
  
“Aww, Harry, you say the sweetest things,” Ginny cooed as she swung the door open completely, sweeping her way into the room as if she owned the place, yanking open the curtains and bombarding Harry with daylight. “Now get your lazy butt out of bed. We have a party to get you ready for.”  
  
“The party’s not until tomorrow, we’ve loads of time,” Harry pointed out tiredly, dragging himself to sit up against the headboard, watching as Ginny pulled open his wardrobe.  
  
“While we out looking for a present, we can find you something nice to wear,” Ginny suggested eagerly. “Because this is just not going to work,” she informed him, shaking her head as she shut away his clothes once more.  
  
“Teddy’s turning four, I really don’t think he’s going to care much what I’m wearing.”  
  
“Teddy might not,” Ginny agreed, looking far too smug for Harry’s liking, “but given most of your clothes are nearly as old as he is…”  
  
“No,” Harry protested feebly, seeing exactly where this was going.  
  
“...this is a wonderful opportunity to invest in a couple of new outfits.”  
  
“I am pretty certain I hate you,” he told her as she took a seat on the edge of his bed, looking entirely unfazed.  
  
“We can work on that,” Ginny assured him with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We have a whole day. Unless you have other plans? Perhaps…” She paused, eyeing him almost hopefully. “...a date?”  
  
For a moment Harry considered inventing something, someone, anything to keep him from being dragged around every clothing store in Britain by Ginny Weasley. But one look at her curiously inquisitive gaze reminded him that he would only then be stuck answering a million questions without answers. So he relented.  
  
“No,” he admitted, with a resigned sigh. “No plans.”  
  
“Pitty,” Ginny said, patting him on his duvet-covered leg consolingly. “Still, means plenty of time for us to replace most of your wardrobe.”  
  
Ginny jumped back to her feet, grabbed his hand in both of hers, and all but dragging him from his bed.  
  
“My wardrobe doesn’t need replacing!” Harry protested, blinking his confusion at suddenly finding himself upright and on his own two feet.  
  
“Quite right, sir,” the wardrobe agreed pompously.  
  
“No, your furniture’s fine, if a little talkative. It’s just the contents,” she informed him with a teasing smirk, her hands pressing against Harry’s back as she directed him toward the bathroom.  
“I don’t suppose you’re going to take no for an answer?” Harry asked hopefully, as he stopped just inside the bathroom, turning to face her.  
  
“See, I knew you knew me well,” Ginny praised. “Now, go shower,” she instructed, gesturing him into the room behind him. “I’ll see if you have anything remotely acceptable to wear for a shopping trip.”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with my clothes,” Harry tried to insist once more as he was gently pushed backwards.  
  
Ginny, however, just smiled at him sweetly, in a way that did nothing to fool Harry, before shutting the door in his face and leaving him to wash up.  
  
He supposed he was going shopping.  
  
-#-  
  
Three hours into the shopping trip, Harry was seriously questioning his life choices and wondering exactly what he had done to deserve such punishment.  
  
He’d been good, hadn’t he? Sure, he’d gotten into a little trouble in his teenage years, but he’d defeated a dark lord and shouldn’t that have balanced the scales enough to save him from Ginny Weasley’s particular brand of torture.  
  
“Oooh, yes. Definitely this one,” Ginny said, mostly to herself Harry assumed, as she added yet another t-shirt to the top of the small mountain of clothing he was balancing in his arms.  
  
He’d given up trying to tell her that the dozen tops, the four pairs of jeans, the several pairs of smart trousers, and the couple of jumpers they had found in the muggle shops were more than enough. Admittedly some of them were lovely, flattering, and very comfortable, but he had no idea why anyone would need this many clothes, least of all when he already had quite a lot at home already that were still perfectly good in his humble opinion.  
  
But Ginny was adamant that they must see what was available in the wizarding establishments too, given he was, in fact, a wizard.  
  
Harry had wanted to point out that maybe they should have just skipped the muggle shops and started in Diagon Alley then. But had held his tongue, as he was bustled into Twilfitt and Tatting's, and had resigned himself to several more hours of browsing, as Ginny called it.  
  
Ginny hummed considering as she pulled a long jacket from one of the racks, turning and holding it up in Harry’s general direction, eyeing both him and the item consideringly for several moments.  
  
“No, not quite you,” she decided, much to Harry’s relief, returning it to its hanger.  
  
“Having fun?”  
  
Harry almost jumped out of his skin at the quiet question asked close to his ear, turning quickly and blinking in surprise at finding Neville standing next to him. He quickly glanced back at Ginny, who had moved further ahead, before turning back to his friend and colleague.  
  
“Oh yeah, the time of my life,” Harry replied sarcastically, cautiously lifting the hefty stack of clothing in his arms just enough to draw attention to it, as though Neville might not have noticed he was currently holding half the shop.  
  
“Can I help?”  
  
“Please,” Harry said a little desperately, but Neville was already moving to take the top layer from his arms. “These are surprisingly heavy. There’s no wonder Ginny is such a great Quidditch player if this is how she works out.”  
  
Neville laughed, stacking some of the clothes into a chair next to the dressing rooms, before taking several more items from Harry and stacking those too. It required several more handfuls but soon Neville had succeeded in both burying the chair and freeing Harry, who was shaking out his aching arms.  
  
“Why exactly do you need so many new clothes?” Neville asked, staring aghast at the pile in a manner Harry could relate to. “Your house didn’t burn down or something, right?”  
  
“No, no, nothing like that,” Harry assured him, a little amused and pleased, that Neville’s reaction wasn’t so far from his own. “I just made the terrible mistake of letting Ginny see the inside of my wardrobe. Apparently, it needed updating… and expanding.”  
  
“I see,” Neville said with obvious bemusement, looking for himself in the direction Ginny had headed.  
  
She now was several racks of clothes over from them, focused expression on her face as she continued to browse and at least half a dozen more items draped over her arm.  
  
Harry groaned at the sight. He was exhausted even at the thought of trying them all on.  
  
“Come on, I have an idea,” Neville said, grabbing Harry’s hand.  
  
Harry blinked in surprise at the sudden contact, hurrying to keep up as Neville all but dragged him across the shop, dodging other customers as they made their way toward Ginny.  
  
“Hi Neville,” she greeted as they reached her.  
  
“I know you’re busy but I really need to borrow Harry,” Neville exclaimed in a hurry, his hand still firmly gripping Harry’s. “It’s important.”  
  
His eyes were wide and for half a moment Harry was convinced that something was actually seriously wrong, and he would have been worried if he hadn’t been having a perfectly normal conversation with Neville only moments earlier. And it took him longer than he wanted to admit to realise that Neville had just lied.  
  
“Is everything all right?” Ginny asked with concern.  
  
“Yeah, maybe, I think so,” Neville rambled. “I just need Harry’s help with something. A personal matter.”  
  
“Oh, right, of course,” Ginny agreed without hesitation. “No problem.”  
  
Harry was once again struck by how easily people trusted Neville, how he could get away with things, simply because people assumed the best of him. It was… impressive.  
  
“I don’t want to leave you to deal with all this on your own…” Neville said with such an earnest expression that Harry almost felt bad.  
  
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Ginny told him with a dismissive wave of her free arm, “I’ve had Harry all to myself all day. I’ve got this.”  
  
“Really?” Harry blurted out in disbelief before he could stop himself.  
  
“Sure, I’ve seen you try on enough things today that I can figure the rest of this out without you,” she assured him. “I’ll get you a last few bits and take it all over to yours when I’m done. If that’s okay with you.”  
  
“Yes!” Harry answered far too quickly. “Yes, that’s fine. Great even. Thank you,” he added more calmly, throwing his arms around her neck and hugging her tightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked as Neville tugged on his hand and he pulled back from the hug.  
  
“Absolutely,” Ginny assured him, seeming pleased but stunned by the sudden affection. “I’ll be around first thing. I need to help you pick out an outfit for the party.”  
  
“Right...” Harry said, realising he should have seen that one coming, but too grateful to be escaping the current shopping spree to argue. “Tomorrow then,” he agreed, waving back at her as he and Neville hurrying for the door.  
  
They left the shop and Neville, who had yet to let go Harry’s hand, pulled them off down the street several shops further. Only once they were out of sight of the windows of Twilfitt and Tatting's did he come to a stop, his hand leaving Harry’s as he leaned on his own knees. Harry initially thought he was catching his breath, despite the fact they had done little more than walk briskly, but he soon realised Neville was trying hard not to laugh.  
  
Harry shook his head as he leaned against the wall of the junk shop, chuckling a little himself, in amused disbelief. Honestly, Neville would have been the last person he would have expected to lie to someone, least of all for the petty reason of helping him escape Ginny’s grasp.  
  
“That was amazing. Thank you.”  
  
“No problem,” Neville said rather bashfully, straightening up and scratching at the nape of his neck. “You seemed more than ready to be out of there.”  
  
“Ginny can be...” Harry trailed off, hesitating to insult her after everything she had done for him over the years. They might not have worked out as a couple and she might drive him crazy but she still had a very special place in his heart and always would.  
  
“A little intense?” Neville finished for him.  
  
Harry nodded emphatically. “Yeah, exactly,” he agreed with an almost nervous chuckle. “She means well though.”  
  
“Of course,” Neville agreed with a smile. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”  
  
“I know,” Harry assured him, reaching out to rest a hand on Neville’s arm. “I love Ginny, she’s like family, like my sister really. But she can be a lot sometimes. We all know that.”  
  
Neville nodded, obviously glad to have been understood. “Well,” he said, moving to lean against the wall next to Harry, “now you’ve escaped…”  
  
“Yeah, I appear to have an unexpectedly free afternoon on my hands,” Harry remarked.  
  
“Why don’t you come have dinner at mine,” Neville offered abruptly.  
  
Harry turned to blink at him in surprise. He and Neville had been friends for a long time, more than a decade really, but he had never been to his house before. He didn’t actually have any idea where he lived, he realised, feeling a little guilty about that.  
  
“Neither of us can stay around here,” Neville pointed out. “If Ginny catches us wandering around Diagon Alley after I borrowed you for an emergency…”  
  
“Yeah, you make a good point,” Harry agreed easily, grinning broadly. “And dinner sounds great.”  
  
“It does?” Neville questioned, his eyes wide, though his expression clearly delighted.  
  
“Of course,” Harry told him. “Besides, anything has to be better than eating alone at my kitchen table again.” He flushed a little, as his brain registered what he had just admitted. “And now I sound exactly like the complete loser I am, awesome,” he said quietly.  
  
“Hey, don’t worry. I’m not judging,” Neville assured him with a dismissive wave of his arm. “My plans were pretty much the same. You’re saving me from a boring dinner alone too.”  
  
“Then I guess it was fortunate for both of us that you happened across me and Ginny,” Harry said as Neville took his arm.  
  
“Yeah,” Neville agreed with a weirdly nervous chuckle. “Very fortunate,” he said quietly before disapparating them away.  
  
-#-  
  
Neville’s place was a comfortable, homely two bedroom house. It wasn’t overly large or spacious, but was clearly old and had a sweet, cottage charm that suited Neville perfectly, in Harry’s opinion. It wasn’t unlike the man himself, gentle and unassuming, yet still being everything you could need.  
  
It had been one of the best afternoons Harry could recall in some time.  
  
They had spent most of it in the kitchen. Harry sat at the small kitchen table, sipping his way through numerous cups of tea, as Neville bustled about, pulling various things from cupboards as he prepared them something to eat, the two of them talking all the while.  
  
Harry couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed and by the time Neville slid a huge plate of roast pork with mountains of vegetables and all the trimmings in front of him, he actually felt he had the appetite for it.  
  
“This is so good,” Harry praised only a few bites in.  
  
“Gran was never much of a cook but I’ve always had a bit of a knack for it,” Neville admitted bashfully from the seat across from him. “She says I get that from mum. I love being in the kitchen but I don’t often have anyone to cook for.”  
  
“You can cook for me anytime you want,” Harry told him.  
  
Adding a little of the freshly made apple sauce to a small piece of the pork, Harry popped it into his mouth. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, actually moaning his approval as he ate. He took a moment to relish it and when he opened his eyes, Neville had paused in eating his own helping and was watching him, seeming a little flustered.  
  
“You okay?” Harry asked.  
  
“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine,” Neville said quickly, tucking back into his dinner once more. “I’m glad you like it.”  
  
“This is as good as anything I’ve ever had at Hogwarts or the Burrow,” Harry praised, a thought crossing his mind as he did. “Did you cook that breakfast you brought me the other day?” he asked abruptly.  
  
Neville laughed nervously. “Yeah.”  
  
“Neville…”  
  
“I know, I only intended to do a couple of eggs and maybe some sausages, but I got a bit carried away.”  
  
“I’d say!” Harry agreed with a laugh. “Not that I’m complaining, that breakfast was magical, and you know I don’t say that lightly… but you really didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”  
  
“I don’t mind, Harry,” Neville said softly, leaning against the table and fixing Harry with a kind smile. “Not for you.”  
  
“That’s…” Harry trailed off, feeling that once again he had greatly underestimated the friend he had in Neville. It was a mistake he really needed to stop making. “Thanks. Though I’ve no idea what I’ve ever done to deserve such kindness from you. I’m a pretty terrible friend.”  
  
“You’re really not,” Neville insisted. “You might need a bit more help than some but…” He shrugged.  
  
The two of them ate quietly for a few moments before he spoke again.  
  
“It’s okay to be struggling, Harry, you know.”  
  
“Is it?” Harry asked sceptically, his tone full of all the weariness he felt. “Everyone else seems to have this being an adult thing down.”  
  
“Do they?” Neville asked with a small disbelieving laugh. “I think maybe you’re not looking close enough, Harry.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Ginny has made a fortune playing Quidditch, right?” Neville asked.  
  
Harry nodded, frowning in confusion.  
  
“But she also only has money to do anything the first week or two after she’s paid because she burns through it so fast,” Neville pointed out.  
  
Harry blinked, trying to think back. He supposed it was true that Ginny often said she couldn’t join them but he’d never really given much thought to the reasons.  
  
“And how about Seamus and Dean,” Neville went on. “They’ve started more business ventures in the last year than we had Defence teachers.”  
  
Harry had to admit that was true.  
  
“Ron would forget his head if Hermione didn’t remind him to screw it on in the morning. George spends half his time staring into space, as though waiting for Fred to walk through the door. Hermione would spend a hundred hours a week in the office if someone didn’t drag her home each evening. And I am hopelessly single and eating alone every night, just as much as you are.”  
  
“Well, when you put it like that,” Harry admitted, a little stunned by Neville’s observations.  
  
“And it’s okay to need a little help,” Neville added, reaching across the table to grasp Harry’s hand in his own for a few seconds. “Maybe we can both help each other a little bit, here and there?” he suggested hopefully.  
  
“I’d like that,” Harry told him gratefully. “If you wanted you could come to this party tomorrow.”  
  
“Sure, I’d love to,” Neville agreed without hesitation.  
  
“It’s not much,” Harry was quick to inform him. “It’s for Teddy. His fourth. But almost everyone going either has their own kid or is a couple, so it would be good to have a friend there. You really don’t have to, it’ll likely be kind of boring but it is fancy dress so the kids will be cute and…”  
  
“I’ll be there,” Neville promised.  
  
“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling at him gratefully as they both went back to their dinner.  
  
-#-  
  
“You’re in a cheery mood.”  
  
At Hermione’s voice, Harry tore his eyes from the now four-year-old Teddy, who was dressed up as a dragon and running circles around the garden, wings flapping on his back.  
  
“I am,” he agreed easily, smiling at her. “What gave me away?”  
  
“For the first time in over a month, you don’t look dead on your feet,” she told him without preamble. “Did you get some sleep? Maybe actually eat something for once.”  
  
“Ha. Ha,” he droned. He rolled his eyes but a smile twitching involuntarily on his lips. “I eat. But actually, yes, I did. I had a full roast dinner at Neville’s last night.”  
  
“Really?” Hermione asked, obviously surprised.  
  
“Did you know he was such a good cook?”  
  
“I had no idea,” she admitted. “But I’m glad the two of you are spending time together.”  
  
“I invited him along today,” Harry informed her, glancing around the large garden again but still seeing no sign of his friend.  
  
“Is he the reason for the nice new clothes?” Hermione asked, something teasing in her voice.  
  
“Huh?” Harry looked down at himself, only then remembering the new outfit he was wearing. “Oh. No, that was Ginny’s doing,” he told her dismissively. “Why would I dress up for Neville?”  
  
“Oh, no reason,” Hermione said, smiling sweetly as she turned to watch the children playing.    
  
Harry frowned at her. Her smile was far too knowing and he once again had a feeling that he was missing something important, something probably completely obvious to the brilliant mind of his best friend.  
  
“Talking of Neville,” Hermione said a few seconds later, gently elbowing Harry in his side before gesturing across the garden.  
  
Harry’s gaze followed, landing on the figure standing just inside the garden gate. He was more than a little surprised, however, to see that Neville was dressed, head-to-toe, in a suit of armour.  
  
“What the…?” Harry breathed out.  
  
“Did you, by some chance, mention this was a fancy dress party?” Hermione asked, obviously highly amused.  
  
“I…”  
  
Harry hesitated. He tried to think back. He didn’t think he had, but he supposed he must. There was no other explanation for why Neville would be standing in Andromeda’s garden wearing a suit of armour. But even as he stood there, trying to figure out how this happened, Neville was glancing around with a confused and increasingly alarmed expression.  
  
“I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” he told Hermione vaguely as he wandered off toward Neville.  
  
“Harry! You said it was a fancy dress party,” Neville almost squeaked at him as he approached.  
  
“I meant for the kids,” Harry told him, motioning to the garden. “The kids are in costumes.”  
  
“Well... now I feel like an idiot,” Neville muttered.  
  
“Yeah…” Harry said slowly, not really sure what else he could say. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”  
  
“You fi dwagon?!”  
  
Neville and Harry both turned in sync to look down at a small girl, dressed up a bumblebee. She was blinking up at Neville expectantly.  
  
“Is there a dragon here for me to fight?” Neville asked with mock seriousness, crouching down and meeting her eye.  
  
“Teddy dwagon,” the little girl informed him, pointing back to where most of the kids were playing.  
  
“Hmmm, yes, I see,” Neville hummed, tapping his chin. “Is he a scary dragon?”  
  
“Nooo,” the girl said with a laugh, her head shaking, her little pigtails swishing around her. “Teddy no airy.”  
  
Harry chuckled, definitely agreeing. There was nothing remotely scary about Teddy’s incredibly cute dragon costume.  
  
“I guess you don’t need me then,” Neville said getting back to his feet with a smile. “If the dragon is bad though, come and find me and we’ll take him down.”  
  
“Okay,” the little girl said seriously, nodding her head before hurrying off to play with the other kids again.  
  
“Making friends?” Harry asked as Neville’s attention returned to him.  
  
“Well… given I’m at a four-year-old’s birthday party dressed in armour,” Neville said with a shrug, “might as well make myself useful and provide some entertainment.”  
  
“We can find you something to change into if you want,” Harry offered, feeling guilty and at least somewhat responsible for the misunderstanding.  
  
“It’s fine,” Neville said dismissively. “I think the damage is done at this point, I might as well stick it out,” he added, glancing over toward the patio where most of the adults were gathered around the buffet and drinks tables.  
  
When Harry himself looked, he saw Neville’s point. Many of them were obviously amused and making no attempt to hide it. He was fairly certain the only reason Ron hadn’t come over to mock Neville already was thanks to whatever stern words Hermione seemed to be having with him. Whatever she was saying, Harry was grateful for her intervention.  
  
“Let’s at least get you something to eat and drink,” Harry insisted.  
  
“Sure,” Neville agreed, allowing Harry to lead him over toward the patio.  
  
“It’s good to see you, Neville,” Hermione greeted warmly as they reached them. “Feels like an age since I saw you last.”  
  
“You too. It has been a while,” he agreed, as Harry fetched cups of juice for each of them from the nearby table. “I wasn’t feeling particularly sociable after Gran passed, and I know how busy you are. I’m trying to do a bit more lately though so maybe we’ll see more of each other in the future.”  
  
“We were so sorry to hear about her passing,” Hermione said earnestly. “But we would always be glad to see more of you.”  
  
“Yeah, you should come to the Leaky with us next week,” Ron suggested.  
  
“You sure?” Neville questioned as he accepted his drink from Harry.  
  
“Of course!” Harry agreed eagerly. “That’d be great. You should totally come. I know Seamus and Dean would like to see you too.”  
  
“We do tend to dress casual though, rather than medieval battlefield,” Ron informed him teasingly.  
  
“I think I’ll be able to manage that,” Neville assured him easily, though there was a red tint to his cheeks. “If not I could always do what Harry does and get Ginny to completely sort my clothing for me.”  
  
Ron snorted in amusement and Hermione just rolled her eyes.  
  
“At your own peril,” Harry warned. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to come to your rescue as effectively as you did mine.”    
  
“Yeah, Gin’s a force of nature when she gets going,” Ron grumbled. “Though she does seem to take particular pleasure in pushing Harry about. I guess it’s sort of her consolation prize after you refused to marry her.”  
  
“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, hitting his arm with the back of his hand.  
  
“He’s not totally wrong, Hermione,” Harry pointed out with a shrug. It wasn’t like it was a great secret what had happened and he had always figured if he and Ginny were okay with how things were, then it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought.  
  
“Well, I suppose. But he could have a little more tact,” she huffed.  
  
“Have you met me?” Ron asked with a disbelieving snort, Harry and Neville both chuckling with him.  
  
“I have, and I honestly have no idea why I put up with you,” Hermione said, though her words held no heat and her smile was affectionate as Ron pulled her into his side and pressed a kiss to her temple.  
  
“Because I keep life interesting?” he suggested.  
  
“Let’s go with that,” Hermione said, patting a hand patronisingly on his chest.  
  
“Mister knight, mister knight, help!”  
  
They all turned as the little girl from before came running over to them, her arms flailing.  
  
“M’lady, whatever is the matter?” Neville asked, crouching down once more and giving her his full attention.  
  
“Teddy chasin’,” she told him, pointing over to the other kids.  
  
Sure enough, Teddy was now running after several of his friends, roaring loudly. There was a lot of shouting and screaming but everyone seemed to be having a great time, as far as Harry could see. Still, Neville’s expression grew serious.  
  
“Would you like my help to slay the dragon and save your friends?” he offered.  
  
The little girl’s face broke out in a grin as she nodded enthusiastically. “Pwease.”  
  
“Duty calls,” Neville informed Harry, Ron and Hermione, before leading the charge off into the gaggle of playing children.  
  
Harry watched as Neville and the bumblebee girl chased down Teddy, Neville obviously going deliberately slowly and pretending to miss Teddy several times before he finally caught him. It seemed though slaying the dragon mostly involved tickling and Teddy’s howls of laughter were soon filling the garden.  
  
“He’s a good one,” Hermione said as she came to stand at Harry’s side, watching Neville with him. “Don’t you think?”  
  
“Definitely,” Harry agreed easily. “I had no idea he was so good with kids though.”  
  
“Yeah, looks like he could be a real family man,” Ron commented as he moved to Harry’s other side, leaning his elbow on Harry’s shoulder.  
  
“Yeah, it’s surprising he’s still single,” Harry said.  
  
“Guess he’s just waiting for the right guy,” Hermione told him dismissively, shrugging her shoulders.  
  
Harry distractedly hummed in agreement, only half listening.  
  
“Come on, Ron, let’s go help Andromeda with the cake,” Hermione suggested, patting Harry on the back as her she headed off toward the house.  
  
“Yeah, good idea,” Ron replied as he followed, “might be the only way to save Neville from that hoard of kids.”  
  
“Wait, right guy?” Harry asked suddenly as his brain caught up. “What do you mean, right guy?” he exclaimed, turning to stare after her.  
  
“You heard me, Harry,” she turned and called back to him before carrying on toward the house, Ron at her side.  
  
Harry blinked after them for a few seconds before turning his attention back to Neville, who was now pretending to be chased by the children. He realised then what Hermione had been hinting at earlier when she had asked about his clothes. She thought he was interested in Neville.  
  
He was ready to dismiss the idea out of hand as totally ridiculous but then he remembered sitting in Neville’s kitchen, feeling more comfortable and relaxed than he had in far too long; he remembered coffee and freshly cooked breakfast brought to him at his desk with a smile; he remembered being taken safely home.  
  
And as he looked, really looked, again at Neville, watching him play happily with Teddy while wearing that ludicrous suit of armour, he realised that maybe the idea wasn’t quite so ridiculous after all.  
  
-#-  
  
Harry had been distracted with his own thoughts for the rest of the party, enough that several people, Neville included, had asked if he was all right. He had dismissed their concerns, assuring them he was simply tired. But he hadn’t been able to shake the small budding idea Hermione had somehow managed to plant in his brain.  
  
Even once he finally made it home, he couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility.  
  
As he flopped down on his bed he wondered how he had never before even considered the idea of dating men. It felt kind like a rather major oversight now in hindsight, given how little he’d ever connected with the girls he’d attempted to have relationships with.  
  
It certainly wasn’t like he was against same-sex couples or anything; he’d known about and been in full support of Seamus and Dean since early into their sixth year. It had just never crossed his mind that _he_ might be interested in other guys. Truthfully, he still wasn’t sure whether he was.  
  
But whether he was gay or not, the prospect of exploring things with Neville stirred something in him.  
  
He rolled over on the bed, staring unseeingly at the ceiling as he tried to wrap his mind around everything and by the time he finally drifted off to sleep almost an hour later, his mind was still swirling with thoughts of Neville.  
  
He had no idea what to think but he couldn’t keep himself from wondering whether there was truly any chance that there could be something more between them than a simple friendship.  
  
-#-  
  
As curious as Harry had felt on Sunday evening, by the time he was sat behind his desk cradling a huge cup of coffee on Monday morning, he felt dreadfully uncertain.  
  
He shared a friendly greeting with Neville but the two of them spent the rest of the morning bogged down with paperwork and had no other chance to speak. For once Harry didn’t even mind the mountain of reports he had to wade through, glad for the excuse to bury himself in his work, for the time to think before he made a complete fool of himself, or worse, ruined the friendship between them.  
  
“Coming to lunch?” Ron asked, startling Harry from his thoughts.  
  
Harry blinked up at him in surprise, not realising how late it already was. He glanced past Ron toward Neville’s desk, momentarily surprised by his own disappointment upon seeing it empty.  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Harry agreed as he looked back at his best friend once more, pushing himself to his feet.  
  
He moved on automatic as he followed his friend from the department, through the Ministry, into one of the lifts and up to the cafeteria. He nodded along and hummed his agreement occasionally as Ron grumbled about something or other, even though he was barely paying any attention.  
  
“You’re seriously distracted, mate,” Ron said as they joined the back of the queue to get food.  
  
“Huh? Right, sorry. Just a lot on my mind I guess,” Harry admitted.  
  
“Would that have anything to do with your personal knight in shining armour?” Ron questioned, his lips twitching into a teasing smile.  
  
“You’re never going to let him forget that, are you?” Harry asked rhetorically.  
  
“Never,” Ron confirmed. “But quit trying to change the subject.”  
  
“What subject?”  
  
“You, daydreaming about Neville,” Ron stated bluntly.  
  
“I wasn’t daydreaming. And there’s nothing going on between Neville and me,” Harry informed him bluntly, huffing a little, “if that’s what you’re getting at.”  
  
“Ah,” Ron said far too smugly, nudging him with his elbow, “but you want there to be.”  
  
“I… didn’t say that,” Harry grumbled, as he reached the front of the line. “I’ll have the soup of the day, with white bread,” he requested from the petite wizard behind the counter.  
  
“But you’re not denying it either,” Ron pointed out as the short wizard served Harry’s lunch before handing it over.  
  
“We’re not talking about this,” Harry insisted, moving the soup onto his tray and heading off to find a table, leaving Ron to order his own lunch.  
  
Harry barely managed to keep from stomping his feet as he made his way over to an empty table, thumping down his tray and only just managing not to spill his soup, before dropping himself into a chair.  
  
He could only assume that Hermione and Ron were conspiring to ‘fix’ his love life again, and that had never ended well in the past. True, Neville was a far more interesting prospect than the weird blonde who worked with Hermione or the admittedly cute brunette who played Quidditch with Ginny, but he had already come to the conclusion that he had no way of knowing whether Neville would ever be interested in him. And he only had Hermione’s word that Neville was even interested in other men at all.  
  
“Do you really not want to talk about this?” Ron asked more sympathetically as he came to join him a few minutes later, taking the seat across from Harry.  
  
“Do you?” Harry asked sceptically, giving his friend a pointed look.  
  
“You know I’m not going to try an make you do anything you don’t want to,” Ron assured him, leaning forward on the table slightly. “But even I can see you’re lonely and we both know how oblivious I am when it comes to all that emotions stuff.”  
  
“But Neville?” Harry questioned curiously. “Did you guys send him to the Leaky last week?”  
  
“Nah, that was pure chance as far as I know,” Ron assured him dismissively, stuffing almost half a tuna sandwich into his mouth.  
  
“So he does a couple of nice things for me, and you and Hermione decide we should be a couple?” Harry asked. “Or am I missing something? That’s what you’re suggesting, right?”  
  
“Hmm,” Ron hummed around his sandwich before swallowing. “Yeah, maybe. It’s all Hermione’s great idea, to get the two of you together so he can look after you or something. But whatever makes you happy, mate.”  
  
“Look after me?” Harry questioned incredulously.  
  
“Yeah, well you got to admit, Neville’s been pretty great at helping you out and all that, this last week,” Ron pointed out. “And you guys get along well.”  
  
“Okay, true, but that doesn’t mean we should… what? Date?”  
  
“Why not?” Ron asked, watching Harry with a contemplative frown as he continued to eat.  
  
“Maybe because I have no idea if Neville even likes me for one thing,” Harry hissed at him. “And I have no idea if I like him like that either, for that matter. But I do know I don’t need you or Hermione, or even Neville to take care of me. I’m fine. And… and maybe I’m happy just being single,” he added grumpily, getting to his feet despite the fact that he hadn’t even touched his lunch.  
  
“Harry, come on, forget I said anything,” Ron tried. “Just eat your lunch, we can talk about how badly the Cannons are going to get beaten next weekend.”  
  
“No,” Harry refused, “I’m not really hungry anymore. You can have it. I’m just going to go make a start on the rest of those reports.”  
  
“Harry…”  
  
“I’ll catch you later,” Harry told him dismissively as he turned to leave, making his way out of the cafeteria without a backward glance.  
  
-#-  
  
Harry kept his head down for the rest of the day, not really wanting to talk to anyone. He felt a little bad for having been so irritable with Ron, particularly knowing his friend had just been trying to help, but this was something he needed to figure out for himself.  
  
Not that he was any closer to doing that.  
  
He was actually relieved when he and Morton were sent out into the field the following day. It gave him a little space from his friends and he even considered making excuses, saying he was too tired to go to the Leaky Cauldron with everyone that night. However, by the time the work day was over, he more than needed a drink or two.  
  
“You all right?” Dean asked him, as Harry all but collapsed into a chair at their table.  
  
“Fine,” Harry told him unconvincingly.  
  
“Rough day?”  
  
“The guys slipped through our fingers again after six weeks of tracking, so yeah… could say that,” Harry grumbled. “Thanks,” he added to Ron as his best friend placed a beer in front of him.  
  
“You’ll get them,” Ron stated confidently.  
  
“Of course, but now we have to spend weeks tracking them again,” Harry complained before taking a deep gulp of his drink and letting out a long, slow breath. “It’s fine, whatever, let’s not talk about this. Seamus, how’s the new business?”  
  
“Good so far,” Seamus told him happily. “Think speciality fireworks might be the niche we were looking for.”  
  
“You should talk to George,” Hermione suggested as Ron retook his seat next to her. “Maybe you could form some kind of partnership with Wizarding Wheezes?”  
  
“Yeah, might not be a bad idea,” Dean agreed, Seamus nodding thoughtfully at the idea himself.  
  
“Hi guys, am I interrupting? Mind if I join you?”  
  
Harry turned quickly, almost jarring his neck in his haste to look toward Neville. He was vaguely aware he should probably say something but every word he knew seemed to have vanished momentarily from his brain.  
  
“Yeah, more the merrier,” Ron piped up. “You can squish in next to Harry,” he suggested, already moving to grab another chair from a neighbouring table and shoving it into the aforementioned spot. “Want a beer? This round’s on me.”  
  
“Yeah, beer would be great,” Neville agreed and as Ron hurried off toward the bar, he turned his attention to everyone else. “Hi.”  
  
“I’m glad you came,” Hermione told him.  
  
“Me too,” Neville agreed. “So what were we talking about?”  
  
“Seamus and Dean’s new firework business,” Harry informed him, finding his tongue once more.  
  
“Really?” Neville questioned, turning to the couple in question. “How’s that going?”  
  
After two days of being plagued by troubled thoughts and questions about how he felt about Neville, and how Neville might feel about him, Harry was surprised at how... normal everything felt. He had expected awkwardness, but he felt perfectly at ease sitting next to him, listening to him talk to their friends and watching him sip his beer.  
  
He had been overthinking things, he decided. He was just happy to spend time with Neville.  
  
“I’ll get the next round,” Neville offered a short while later when all their glasses were almost empty. “Everyone in for another.”  
  
They all nodded their agreement, thanking him, before he disappeared off across the room to the bar.  
  
“So what’s going on there then?” Seamus asked the moment Neville was out of earshot, gesturing between Neville’s empty seat and Harry.  
  
“Nothing,” Harry insisted with exasperation. “Neville and I are friends, that’s all!”  
  
“Yeah, we’re not blind, Harry,” Dean countered. “We saw the glances you kept giving each other.”  
  
“It’s a bit of a touchy subject,” Ron warned.  
  
“It’s not,” Harry argued, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not a subject at all.”  
  
“Then you won’t be bothered to find out that the pretty blonde at the bar is making moves on him?” Hermione asked, the corner of her lip twitching up into a smirk.  
  
Harry’s head had jerked around to look before he could even stop himself, and he mentally cursed at his friends’ chuckles. But his attention soon narrowed, as he spotted Neville, who was indeed chatting with a very pretty girl, smiling at her sweetly, as she put her hand on his arm.  
  
He frowned, feeling uneasy at the sight but having no idea what to do.  
  
“Go talk to him, you idiot,” Seamus encouraged, slapping Harry on the back and startling him from his own thoughts.  
  
“But…”  
  
“No, Seamus is right,” Ron insisted, interrupting before Harry could say anything more. “You hate her touching him. It’s obvious. So do something about it. You’re a bloody Gryffindor, aren’t you? Be brave.”  
  
Harry turned and glared at his friend for a second before returning his attention to Neville and the way-too-close blonde at the bar.  
  
“She’s kind of cute,” Dean remarked as Neville chuckled somewhat awkwardly at something she said.  
  
“Harry thinks Neville is cuter,” Seamus remarked in a loud whisper, causing the others to laugh and Harry’s frown to deepen.  
  
“You guys are terrible people,” Harry told them half-heartedly as he got to his feet. “I have no idea why I’m friends with any of you.”  
  
“Because you’re a glutton for punishment,” Hermione suggested with an entirely too innocent expression. “And you love us.”  
  
“Apparently,” Harry agreed, huffing a little as he headed off across the pub despite himself.  
  
He had no idea what he was doing. He was doubting himself even as he approached Neville, not having a clue what he was going to say and knowing he had no right to say anything at all. Neville could laugh with all the pretty blonde girls he wanted. It was none of Harry’s business.  
  
He was about to detour to the toilets when the girl stepped further into Neville’s personal space, and Harry saw uncertainty flash across his friend’s face.  
  
“Everything okay, Neville?” he asked as he strode over to the pair of them.  
  
“Harry,” Neville said, and the relief in his tone reaffirmed Harry’s decision.  
  
“I thought you were coming right back,” Harry said, feeling daring as he took a step closer to Neville’s side, edging the girl out just enough to hopefully make his point.  
  
“I am now you can help me carry our drinks,” Neville assured him with an earnest smile. “It was nice talking with you, Ella,” he said to the girl as almost an afterthought.  
  
Harry gave her a slow wave of his fingers to drive the point home.  
  
Huffing indignantly, the blonde turned on her on her heel and all but stormed away, her heels clicking against the stone floor.  
  
“Thank you,” Neville told him earnestly, the moment she was out of their sight.  
  
“You weren’t enjoying being flirted with?” Harry asked curiously.  
  
“She’s really not my type,” Neville informed him with an amused quirk to lips.    
  
“No?” Harry’s heart was pounding, hardly daring to hope let alone ask.  
  
“No,” Neville confirmed.  
  
“Do you...erm…” Harry laughed awkwardly as he steeled himself, “have a type?”  
  
“Maybe,” Neville said with amusement. “Dark hair perhaps. Stubborn. Handsome. Apparently a little hopeless at being an adult. And definitely male.”  
  
A small laugh bubbled from Harry’s throat as he reached out and grabbed the front of Neville’s jumper.  
  
“Would it be weird if I kissed you?” he asked, already leaning closer.  
  
“No idea,” Neville breathed out, his eyes fixed on Harry’s. “But I would definitely like to find out.”  
  
Harry closed the small gap between, pressing their lips together. For a moment he was very aware of exactly who he was kissing but Neville pushed back against him, turning the initially chaste moment into something far needier and more desperate.  
  
There was a wolf whistle nearby by Harry couldn’t bring himself to care as Neville’s arm wound around his back and Harry opened his mouth just enough to allow Neville’s tongue inside to brush against his own. Pressing his body against Neville’s, Harry deepened the kiss as his heart hammered in his chest.  
  
This was the kiss he had been waiting for.  
  
“So…?” Neville asked breathlessly, his arm still around Harry’s waist as they broke the kiss a few moments later. “Too weird?”  
  
“No. Not at all,” Harry assured him, feeling strangely giddy. “Kind of perfect actually.”  
  
“Shame, I was going to suggest we maybe practice some more,” Neville said with a grin that was bordering on smug.  
  
“Now you mention it, practice is definitely a good idea,” Harry agreed happily, slipping his hand into Neville’s and smiling at him broadly. “You know, just in case this can any better.”  
  
“Your place or mine?” Neville asked, as he all but dragged Harry toward the door out into the back courtyard.  
  
Harry glanced over to their friends, who were all looking nothing short of delighted, cheering and applauding the pair of them. He knew they wouldn’t begrudge them their early exit and he turned back to Neville, taking a moment to admire him as they stepped out the back of the pub.  
  
“Yours,” Harry said finally answered as he stepped in close, for once looking forward to what the rest of the evening, the rest of his life, might hold. It seemed Ron had been right, he really had found his knight in shining armour.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please do check out the other stories in our Unexpected Love Challenge collection.


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